


Fire Escape

by leftmywingshome



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, One Night Stands, One Shot, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 19:12:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21166541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftmywingshome/pseuds/leftmywingshome
Summary: Strangers. But maybe they don't want to be... maybe they want to be more.





	Fire Escape

**Author's Note:**

> **I wanted to write something dirty, something filthy and quite possibly I’ve succeeded but it’s impossible for me to write Bethyl without love. It can’t happen, won’t happen. That being said enjoy this dirty love story!**

Daryl cradles his hand to his chest and keeps his eyes on the sidewalk in front of him. Which is hard to do considering he had one too many shots of Wild Turkey. With each step the music and chaos of the grungy biker bar fade behind him. He should've stayed home he knew it the minute he agreed to go. But he went. Like he always does and now he’s paying for it. Like he always does.

Blood trickles down the sleeve of his jacket and a wave of nausea makes his stomach roll and his head spin making it impossible to navigate. But he’s trying.

“Hey, Daryl!” Lifting his head slowly to avoid any more dizziness he looks up at the side of the brick building doing his best to focus on the pretty little blonde he knows is sitting on the fire escape and promptly trips over his clumsy feet. He goes down hard using his uninjured hand to catch himself. 

“Fuck,” he groans. Instead of getting right back up he kneels there on the sidewalk blood dripping from the cut on his hand and gravel digging into the palm of his other hand and contemplates all the ways he can kill his brother.

* * *

Grantville Georgia, far enough away from the farm for Beth to breathe and be herself. Or at least find out who she is exactly. And close enough that she can check in on her daddy. Because even though she felt smothered by her family's attention, she still loves them and sometimes she even misses them enough to feel like maybe this move was a mistake.

But those moments are far and few between and she’s actually starting to feel settled. 

The fire escape is probably her favorite thing about her little apartment. It’s right out of a New York City neighborhood without the anxiety of actually living there. And watching the sunset, the sky all orange and pink and purple with stars winking into existence is better than all the therapy she received after her mama’s death and her subsequent breakdown.

She’s got a job at the diner she lives above and she’s going to school and life is finally turning around.

Leaning back against the brick wall she glances down at the street where she notices a man stumbling from the direction of the only bar in the tiny town. 

Daryl Dixon.

He’s younger than most of the other patrons that frequent the shitty little hole in the wall. Most of which are older bikers or townies. He’s definitely got a lot of years on her. And even though he looks like trouble and Beth Greene has never been in trouble, Daryl Dixon could change her mind and he wouldn’t even have to try all that hard. 

He sometimes ends up at the bar with his brother and she only knows this because he’s also come into the diner a couple of times. And the second time he’d been staring at her so intently it had made her uncomfortable and she’d called him on it.

_ “Something you need?” she’d asked in a sweet tone that held a slight edge. At least an edge as far as Beth Greene was concerned. It wasn’t in her nature to be hard or mean. _

_ “Ain’t you the girl that sits out on that fire escape?” he’d blurted out then turned about three different shades of red all the way to the tips of his ears and started digging into the burger he’d ordered. _

She was that girl and he’d noticed her. She’d definitely noticed him, quite a few times. His wide shoulders and muscular arms, blue jeans that matched his eyes and fit just right and to top it all off he wore a leather vest with angel wings stitched on the back... She wanted to know the story behind those wings, wanted to know what his arms felt like wrapped tight around her and if he closed his steely blue eyes when he kissed a girl.

That same night he asked her about her fire escape he told her his brother was over at the bar but he wasn’t feeling it so he’d come in to grab a burger. 

He hadn’t told her his name was Daryl Dixon. She’d found that out from one of the other waitresses who also informed her that Merle Dixon, Daryl’s older brother liked whiskey, women, and fighting. In that order. She’d said it so wistfully Beth was sure she must have been one of those women at one time or another.

He’s coming from the bar like she’s seen him do quite a few times now, but tonight Daryl looks like he’s had a few too many, she’s never seen him drunk before. He’s favoring his right hand, holding it against his chest and it looks like it's bleeding. She calls out to him but before he gets close enough for her to get a better look he trips over the uneven concrete and goes down on his knees.

“Oh no!” she breathes. Without thinking too hard about it, she climbs down the ladder of the fire escape and drops to the concrete below. She hurries over to him and kneels beside him.

“I’m so sorry Daryl!” He’s pushed himself to his knees and he is bleeding. There’s a nasty cut on his hand.

“Wha’ the fuck ya sorry fer girl? ‘M the one tha’ drank to fuckin’ much…” he growls. And that growl, even with a bit of a drunken slur does something to her tummy and everything below it. Something hard, soft, and warm at the same time.

“You’re bleeding!” Taking a hold of his hand she grabs the bandana she saw hanging out of his back pocket and wraps it up.

“Broke a bottle, fuckin’ Merle…” Sirens in the distance make her heart beat faster.

“Are they coming after-” she starts but he’s shaking his head and chuckling.

“ ‘S jus’ Grimes. He ain’t gonna do nothing but haul Merle’s ass home. Fuck girl yer squeezing too hard!” Beth bites her lip and for a minute their eyes lock. His are a deep blue, more like the ocean than a pair of jeans and clearer than they should be for a man who’s having trouble walking.

“I, I’m sorry…” she blushes. Does he know what she was thinking? 

“My hand, yer squeezin’ my hand.” Blowing out a breath he manages to stand up and Beth keeps his hand wrapped in the bandana without squeezing.

“Let me clean this up for you. Come around back and up to my place.” She guides him in the direction of the back door to the diner and the stairs that lead up to her apartment.

“You in the habit of taking strange men up ta yer place?” She slows a little and smiles over at him.

“Well no, but I see you all the time-” Beth starts feeling the heat creep up the back of her neck. She’s imagined this scenario, but she usually invites Daryl up instead of tripping him on the sidewalk. And he’s never bleeding.

“How the hell ya know my name girl?” His voice is coarse like his hand that she’s holding onto and she has to will herself not to shiver.

“I, you told me, remember?” It’s a lie but since he’s been drinking maybe he won’t remember.

“I may be fucked up by I know I never tol’ ya my name.” Reaching out she opens the back door and leads him up the stairs ignoring the fact that he’s caught onto her little lie. He makes it up the stairs without even stumbling. Which is a relief because if he fell, again… well, it wouldn’t be pretty.

Once they’re inside she takes him to her little round kitchen table and pulls out a chair.

“Sit here and I’ll get my first aid kit.” He looks at the chair and narrows his eyes at her but does as she asked and sits down. She keeps her first aid kit in the kitchen because it’s the place she will most likely need it. She didn’t inherit her mama’s talent for cooking. And she has the scars to prove it. Tiny cuts and accidental burns usually fade away after a while but some of them leave proof that she is better off using her microwave. 

Taking her kit she sits down beside Daryl, pulls her chair in close and reaches for his hand. Her fingers tingle when they touch his warm skin. There’s a sharp intake of breath, not hers but Daryl’s. He felt it too. Their eyes meet over their clasped hands for a second before Daryl pulls away and stands up.

“Daryl?” Her heart is hammering in her chest not only because of what she felt but the fact that she knows he felt something too and he’s leaving.

“Gonna wash it…” he says holding up his hand.

Oh.

“Oh yeah, good idea.” The relief she feels is so completely malapropos but she feels it just the same. Looking down into the first aid kit she busies herself finding what she needs instead of watching him at the sink where he stands with his back to her. She does, however, take a minute to appreciate the way his jeans fit up close and personal.

Daryl hisses as the water hits the gash on his hand. This is welcome though, the dull pain. He understands it a hell of a lot better than what he felt when Beth touched him. The cut and the fall outside on the sidewalk sobered him up but the little current of electricity that went through his body at her touch…

He has no fucking idea what that is.

Shutting off the water he sits back down beside her and lays his hand on the table in front of her.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve had you wash it before-” she begins.

“Ain’t no big deal,” he says as she takes his hand. There’s a buzz, soft and barely-there when their hands meet again. He watches her look at it, his hand. Her hair is in a braid but a few stray curls frame her face. She’s like a flower, a perfect flower that he wants to pick.

“This is kind of bad, you might need stitches. All I can do is bandage it up. It could scar.” She’s talking softly while she wipes the wound with some kind of antiseptic that stings.

“Girl ain’t ya noticed I’m full a scars. One more ain’t gonna make no difference.” She laughs softly and he likes the sound and the way it makes him tingle as her touch did. Her hands are small and soft the pink nails perfect little ovals, but they look like they could scratch if she wanted too. Clearing his throat he focuses on her face. She’s biting her bottom lip as she works and he can’t look away. When she finishes she lets her lip go and he can see the indentation left by her teeth and how blood rushes to her lip making it flush a dark pink.

She must feel his eyes on her because she looks at him and he can see the question there.

“What?” It’s not at all the feisty tone she used on him in the diner the night he realized she was the beautiful girl he’d always see sitting out on her fire escape. If he tells her what he’s thinking she’ll probably kick him out and call the police. The fact that he wonders what her lip would feel like under the tip of his tongue is fucking creepy.

So he says something else, something even more embarrassing although not as creepy.

“You’re pretty.” Pretty? God. Maybe he is still shitfaced.

She laughs again and it isn’t condescending or mean. She seems delighted that he said it and her blushing face only confirms that. Smiling over at him she lowers her lashes.

“Thank you, Daryl.” She runs her fingers over the tape she used to secure the gauze pad to his hand. She’s gentle so he barely feels it. It's nothing more than the shadow of an ache. Lifting his hand he looks at the bandage and nods in approval.

“Thanks.”

“I like your eyes.” she blurts out. 

“Uh-”

“I mean you said, you said I was pretty so…” She busies herself with putting everything back in the first aid kit and jumps up to take it back to the cupboard she took it from. He watches her go, it’s impossible not too. And he also can’t help where his mind goes. Her tiny body, he could wrap himself around her, pick her up and hold her in his arms, she could be naked, they both could be… clearing his throat he rubs his face with his uninjured hand.

Something about her being so damn small is a fucking turn on.

“I guess I better-” The chair he’s sitting in screeches across the linoleum as he pushes it back intending to stand up and get the hell out of there before his body gives away his inappropriate thoughts.

“Do you want some coffee? I can make-” She’s smiling and her eyes are bright, really fucking bright.

“Ya want me ta stay?” He cringes internally at how desperate his voice sounds in his own ears. He can only imagine how it sounds to her.

“I, I don't want you to leave,” she breathes it more than says it and it’s so fucking erotic he doesn’t even care what his body does as long as she keeps doing this, this thing she's doing to him.

“No?” he stands then because he wants to close the distance between them.

“Mmm mmm,” she hums shaking her head.

“Gonna have ta ask ya again, ya always bring strange men ya barely know home?” He’s close enough that he can reach out and touch her if he wants. And he wants, he wants it bad only he has no idea why.

“I, no. I don’t do that. Well until tonight.” He sees no fear in her eyes. And if he did he’d fucking stop this right now. This little game they’re playing cause that’s what it feels like, a dirty little game.

“I coulda came up here and done anything to ya… yer so fucking small and delicate-” His eyes roam over her again like he hasn’t already looked. 

“I’m strong. You don’t scare me.” The nonchalance with which she says is a pretty good indication that she’s not afraid of him. In fact-

“I ain’t tryin’ ta scare ya and I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He’s got her backed up against the counter and there’s barely room to breathe between them. He can feel the heat of her body and his blood is boiling. “Got a good mind ta find yer daddy, tell ‘em he needs ta give ya a good old fashioned spanking for inviting a drunk old biker up ta yer place,” he whispers reaching out and tugging on a tendril of her hair letting his fingers graze her plump cheek as he does. The sigh she emits is unexpected and sends a pulse right to his cock. 

“You aren’t old, my daddy’s old and I think if anyone is gonna spank me he better be able to hold me down.” Her lips are parted and the expression on her face is a mixture of desire and determination and never in all of his shitty life has a beautiful girl looked at him like Beth is looking at him. “Think you can handle that?” she whispers shakily.

“Ya want me ta hold ya down?” he rasps. She nods and he swallows and his throat is parched, dry as a desert in the height of summer. And this girl is the only water for miles.

“Want me ta spank ya?”

“If you feel it’s warranted,” she says raising her chin but her voice is shaking even more now. Reaching up she presses a palm to his chest. A small hand he imagines wrapped around his cock. Growling he lets his hand slide to her chin and he tilts her face up towards his.

“Ain’t gonna spank ya, told ya I wasn’ gonna hurt ya. I ain’t like that- that gonna be a problem?” But slapping her ass while he’s slamming into her might be something he could like- if she wants it.

“No. But you’re gonna do something, aren’t you? A strange man alone with a pretty little girl like me, a pretty little girl who wants, I want…”

“Whada ya want?”

“I want you to show me what happens when you bring a stranger home…” She runs her small pink tongue along her bottom lip and fists his T-shirt in her hand.

“That so?” She nods enthusiastically and smiles like she just invited him to a party or church on Sunday. Not an invitation to do all the things he’s got running on repeat in his head. Dirty things, bad things, things that will make her feel good but not hurt her, never hurt her. “Ya sure?”

He feels her step up onto his boots and the press of her small breasts as she leans into him letting her lips brush lightly against his. Her breath is warm and sweet as she whispers,

“I’m sure.” Before pressing her lips to his and opening her mouth just a little, enough to suck on his bottom lip and light a fuse that has his hands sliding around her waist possessively pulling her against his inappropriate body.

And all he can think is she wants it, he wants it… he won’t hurt her but he can show her exactly what rough men like to do to pretty little girls like her.

* * *

Who is she? What happened to sweet little Beth Greene? That’s easy. Daryl Dixon happened. Daryl Dixon and his swagger that he’s completely unaware he has. Daryl Dixon and his blue eyes that make all the parts of her that need to be covered by clothes quiver in his regard. Daryl Dixon who happens to finally be in her apartment and she isn’t letting him leave until he does something, anything to ease the ache between her legs and in her chest.

She’s never wanted something so bad in all her life. 

Pulling back she takes a deep breath and looks up at him. Her forehead barely surpasses his chin and something about that makes the ache between her legs amplify. She usually hates to think of herself as small but with him, small is so good. Her chest is heaving as if she’s been deprived of air and his warm hands are circling her waist holding her close, maybe even holding her up because looking into his eyes makes her knees feel like jello.

“I could take whatever I want from ya, ya know that right?” Her breath catches at the deep thrum of his voice vibrating against her chest.

“What do you want?” she asks biting her lip again because that seems to be something Daryl likes. His gaze hones in on her mouth and it’s a delicious feeling.

“Want ya naked, take off all yer clothes girl,” he growls softly as he steps back giving her room to strip for him. Because that’s what he wants isn’t it? The look on his face burns right through her and she scrambles for the buttons on her shorts tugging on them then pushing them and her panties down to her ankles. Her tank top follows and as she reaches around for the clasp on her little lace bra he stops her. 

“Daryl?”

“Shhh, lemme look… fuck, pink lace…” he whispers more to himself than her. She stands as still as she can while his eyes devour her skimpy bra that does nothing to cover her hard nipples. But it’s impossible not to shiver when the tip of his tongue peeks between his lips. “Keep going,” he rasps his voice just slightly above a whisper.

Permission granted she does just that and in seconds she’s naked standing in her kitchen staring at fully clothed Daryl. 

“Are you going to…” Looking him up and down she hugs herself feeling self-conscious for the first time since this started.

“Think a stranger looking to have his way with ya is gonna give a fuck about his clothes? Think he might just enjoy watching an’ then bend ya over yer table and fuck the life outta ya.” The mental image is too much and it makes her whimper, makes her wet. Wetter. “Com’ere.” It’s not a suggestion. Not with the look he’s giving her. Shuffling over to him her arms still crossed in front of her she doesn’t protest when he pulls her into the circle of his arms.

This is what she wanted or something like it anyway. And she’s not having second thoughts she’s just…

“I can feel yer heart-pounding Beth,” he says lowly.

“I can feel yours too,” she whispers shakily.

“Yer shiverin’.”

“I know, I’m…”

“Scared?” He’s rubbing her back gently stopping his hand right at the swell of her ass.

“I told you I’m not afraid-” she says trying to pull back but he’s holding tight and she’s not going anywhere.

“Ya should be.” Even though she doesn’t regret bringing Daryl up to her apartment a tiny tendril of fear twirls in her tummy. “Don’t fuckin’ know me, or what I could do to you.” He buries his face in her hair inhaling and holding her tighter. “I’m gonna make ya scream my name pretty girl, fore the night’s over.”

The tendril of fear turns in to raw want, desire no one else has ever made her feel and again she whimpers in his arms, squirming, doing her best to make contact, his body with all the parts of her body that need something solid.

“Still not afraid,” she breathes as her hand finds the hem of his shirt. His skin is soft, velvety even and warm. He hisses as her fingers explore and he backs away keeping hold of her hands.

“Want my clothes off baby?” She nods making a feeble attempt to pull her hands from his grasp. “Lemme taste yer pussy first, see what I got ta look forward ta.” It’s dirty, so dirty. She’s never been talked to like this, touched like this or made to feel like every inch of her skin inside and out is on fire and can only be put out by Daryl’s hands and mouth. “Can I? Can I lick yer pussy?”

“A strange man probably wouldn’t ask-”

“But he might jus’ ta hear ya say no, beg him ta stop…” Daryl’s kneeling in front of her now, he’s so close he can probably smell her, smell what he’s doing to her. “Ya ain’t gonna ask me ta stop are ya? Cause ya want it.”

“I. I want it… I, please Daryl!”

“Please what? Gotta ask.” His hands are on her knees forcing her to move, open legs.

“Please lick my pussy,” she shudders as she says it. 

“Good girl. Tha’s right…” He pushes her back against the counter and she grabs it with both hands as he buries his face between her spread thighs. Her head falls back as she feels his tongue invade her wet folds.

* * *

Alcohol has never diminished his inhibitions like this- ever. His face is buried between Beth's legs, the tangy, sweetness that is her pussy is not only in his mouth but smeared all over his face, drenching his beard. He’s talking to her and he never talks to anyone, not like this. And the things he’s saying… it’s like a story from one of Merle’s dirty romance novels. His brother reads fucking erotica.. and Daryl has somehow channeled the little bit he’s read and he’s spouting it like poetry. 

She’s so wet! It’s a little relieving, at least he knows for sure that she’s into this as much as he is. Not that she gave any indication she wasn’t. It’s him and his self-doubt, always thinking the worst instead of letting good things be good things.

This girl is a damn good thing. And not because he’s currently tongue fucking her tight little pussy. There’s just something about her. He knew it the night they talked at the diner. She’s a good thing and he damn well better just let her fucking be that.

At least until he gets what he wants. Nah that’s a lie, he wants to give her something back too and he hopes maybe this won’t be a one-time thing.

Turning off the part of his brain that’s trying to psychoanalyze everything he slides his hands around Beth’s ass cupping her firm cheeks, holding her still as he flicks his tongue over her clit until her legs are shaking. Then with one last suck at her soft wetness, he pulls away and leans back on his heels leaving her hanging on for dear life to the edge of the counter. He can see the beard burn on her inner thighs and everything is swollen and shiny with her juices and his saliva. The sight makes his cock throb.

“Daryl… what, how come you-” Standing he shushes her with a wet finger to her lips. It's wet with her arousal and he smears it on her lips groaning when her tongue flicks out to taste herself.

“Ya want me naked right?” he growls and feels a tingle in his balls when she nods enthusiastically his finger still in her mouth. With his other hand, he tugs at his belt and the buttons on his fly. This distracts her from sucking on his digit which frees his hand up to pull out his hard cock.

He’s treated to a whimper, a sultry little whimper that is in no way a signal of distress unless the distress is how badly Beth wants him. Cause she does… she wants him and that makes him feel all kinds of feelings that are all mixed up together and will take some time to unravel and figure out.

Right now he wants to play.

“Take your pants off Daryl…” She reaches for him and he bats her hand away.

“First I want ya ta suck me off.”

“But you said…”

“Kneel.” She does and it almost brings him to his knees with how fucking insane it is that she obeyed. He shouldn’t like it so much, but he does. “That’s fuckin’ good Beth… so good,” he murmurs. 

She’s looking up at him with big blue eyes, innocent eyes that belie the truth…

She ain't all that innocent.

Fisting himself he rests his hand on the crown of her head tilting it back. Groaning he squeezes hard at the base of his cock. He could blow his load right now if he’s not careful. All over her face and neck and…. Something about that doesn’t sit right with him though. That’s the stuff from Merle’s books that needs to stay in Merle’s books. He’s not coming all over her face, giving her a pearl necklace, not this girl. He’s gonna fuck her mouth for sure. Get as much of his dick down her throat as she can take and then he’s gonna kiss her, hold her in his arms and kiss her. Maybe a stranger wouldn’t do that.

Maybe this isn’t all about the game.

Her warm breath on his hand and his thighs and the shiny head of his cock pulls him out of his revere and back into the here and now.

“Open yer mouth, stick out yer tongue girl.” She goes even further and slides her small hands up the back of his jean-clad thighs and slips her fingers in his belts loops.

Holds on.

He rubs the head of his cock that’s shiny with precome over her tongue shivering at the slight friction. Then he’s engulfed in the softness of her mouth, the warm, wet softness that might feel like her pussy without the tightness. That is until she starts sucking then it’s just as tight as what’s waiting for him between her legs. She’s humming like she’s sucking on her favorite candy and Daryl has to lean forward and grasp the counter before he falls over.

“Fuck, Beth,” he groans. She never takes her eyes off of him and that alone is exquisite. Too much so in fact. Shoving his hand into her blonde hair he pulls her off his cock and stumbles a little as he backs away from her. Her eyes go huge and she licks her lips and blinks up at him.

“Did I do it wrong…” She's laying it on thick, the confused, frightened girl act. So thick that it’s making him low key worry that maybe this is too much.

“Nah, fuck… it was too damn good. Don’ wanna finish in yer mouth, want ya ta come on my cock baby,” his husky voice and the fact that he’s pulling off his shirt and pushing his jeans down over his hips seems to please her and that mischievous glint is back in her eye as she watches each article of clothing fall to the floor.

“You got a bed?”

“Strangers don’t ask about beds do they?” she teases.

“This one does. Guess ‘m a polite stranger cause I wanna fuck ya ina bed and not on yer kitchen table.” A slight shift in her expression makes his heart pound a little harder, it’s a softness a lot like he saw earlier when she was taking care of his cut and he can’t stop himself from hoping maybe she’s feeling some of what he’s feeling.

Like maybe there’s more to this.

* * *

Beth slid her hand in his and led him to her bedroom. Every nerve ending in her body on fire for what he’s done to her and what she’s done to him. And what they’re still going to do. In her bed. Because he wants to do it there.

What does that mean? Does it mean what she hopes it means? Or is it just more comfortable here? He doesn’t give her time to think about it though. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her hard and sloppy and she can smell herself on him. She can taste the salty tang of her pussy on his lips and it’s erotic, to say the least. 

He picks her up and tosses her on the bed not even giving her time to situate herself before he’s crawling all over her. How does one situate themselves before getting fucked by a stranger anyway? The thought makes her giggle. Daryl manages to shut her up by flipping them both over so he’s on the bottom and she’s straddling his thighs.

“Gonna sit on my cock girl, gonna ride it ‘til ya come and keep riding until I come.” The words and the rasp in his voice make her shiver and goosebumps pepper her skin. Sliding his hands up her small frame he cups her small breasts in his hands and pinches the nipples.

“Perfect little titties girl, fit in my hand and prolly my mouth too.” With one larger calloused hand at the small of her back, he guides her down so he can suckle on one nipple and then the other.

“Ya on birth control?” he mumbles around a mouth full of breast.

“I am…” Oh no. A stranger wouldn’t wear a condom, but she can’t, won’t take the chance. As if he can read her thoughts he lets her nipple go with a pop and slides a hand up to her face brushing sweaty hair from her cheek.

“I got somethin’, in my jeans…” he rasps and manages to turn over enough to reach for the jeans she didn’t realize he brought with them into the bedroom. As he’s stretching over the side of the bed she catches a glimpse of his back. It’s striped with scars. She saw a few on his chest but these are worse than those and there are more.

A little flare of something hot and mean flowers in her belly. Who hurt him? And why? She wants to touch them, run her fingers over them, but doubts he’d appreciate her reassurance for something he most likely does not want to discuss right now. Instead, she presses her sex against his thigh distracting herself from everything but her body and Daryl’s body and what they are going to do with said bodies.

He narrows his eyes as he rolls back over a condom package in his hand but she feigns innocence and plucks the little square from his ringers and tears it open.

“Gonna help a strange put on a fuckin’ rubber?”

“You’re a polite stranger and I’m a pretty little girl with manners… you’re wounded. I’m gonna help,” she breathes and a smile, bigger than any she’s ever seen on Daryl, stretches across his face and he chuckles. She silences him as she sheathes his cock in the soft latex, watching his face and loving the groan he touch elicits.

Once she’s done he grabs her wrists and his steely blue eyes bore into her.

“No more fuckin’ around. Get on my cock girl,” he growls. Her wrists ache where he’s holding on too tight and she’ll most likely have bruises. Proof that all of this wasn’t just another fantasy she had.

She scrambles forward sliding her pussy along the length of him letting him know that even though he’s a stranger taking advantage she can bring him down to her level. She can tease and torment him too. 

“Girl… I can change my mind and put ya over my knee an’ whip yer ass,” he chokes out.

“But you won’t,” she breathes as she lifts up and grabs ahold of his cock.

“Oh yeah? Why’s tha?” His stomach muscles are tense under her hand and she can feel him holding back.

“Cause you wanna fuck me, Daryl,” she whispers sinking down on his cock, taking all of him at once. It takes her breath away and aches a little as her body accommodates him, all of him because it’s never been like this, felt like this with any other man.

Her name on his lips stretches into a moan and all that pent up tension she felt seconds ago is unleashed as he bucks up and into her his hands freeing her wrists and clamping onto her thighs. 

“Fuck…” His entire body is trembling as he flips her over onto her back and pulls one of her legs up between his arm and his ribs. “ ‘S right… I wanna fuck ya…” He’s braced himself above her with one arm. “Wanna make ya come and I wanna hold ya down while I do it,” he growls. His fingertips bite painfully into the skin on her hips and it makes her squirm. But not because it hurts or maybe because it does and she likes it. Like her wrists, she’ll have bruises here too. Purple smudges on her ivory skin. Squirming beneath him she struggles to get closer, make contact. She can feel the head of his cock bumping her pussy and it needs to do more than tease.

“Gonna fuck ya now…” he breathes harshly.

“A stranger wouldn't ask-” 

“Ain’t asking!” he says as he slams into her. Her head hits the iron railing of her headboard and for a second she’s terrified he might stop, the look in his eyes, the worry. 

“Please Daryl…more,” she whispers digging her nails into his back and tightening her legs around his waist.

“Fuck…” He plants his hand on the wall above her and thrusts into her again and again only slowing to lean down and breath against her lips.

“Sweet fucking girl.”

Then he gives her everything she wanted, and he gives it to her hard.

* * *

He could break her, hurt her, he’s probably already bruised her in so many different places. Marked her. His cock throbs inside of her tiny body as he lowers his mouth to her hard nipples and sucks one, then the other into his mouth grazing them with his teeth making her squirm beneath him.

Pushing himself up on his knees he grasps her thighs holding her so he can stay buried deep inside of her.

“Touch yerself, get yerself almost there, com’on baby, play with yer pussy for me.” She hesitates for a second then slides her hand over her stomach and down between her legs. Her fingers skim his cock and it’s like a jolt of electricity. Hissing he pumps in and out of her tight cunt forcing himself take it slow… slow even strokes as he watches her fingers circle her clit. She’s gonna come before him even if it kills him. He wants to watch it happen and he can’t do that if he’s coming down from a fucking orgasm from this girl.

There’s barely time for him to see how she does it, how she likes it and file it away for another time because he’ll be damned if this is gonna be a one night stand before she’s whispering his name.

“I’m gonna… Daryl, I’m gonna come…” She’s flailing around on the bed but he cups her chin and holds her face still.

“Tha’s right baby, ya are, gonna make ya... Look at me. Keep yer eyes open, lemme watch.” His thrusts speed up keeping time with her fingers as they swirl around and around until she arches up and he feels her pussy clench around him and he thinks again of her small hand wrapped around his cock and that’s all it takes. He’s following her over the edge barely managing to keep his own eyes open.

He does manage to ease down beside her so he doesn’t crush the life out of her. And he wraps her up in his arms goosebumps peppering his skin as she purrs against him, her heart beating like a hummingbird against his chest. She raises her head to look at him and her blue eyes are soft and warm.

“Did you see what you wanted to see?” she asks.

He could go on and on about all he’s seen since the moment he first noticed her on the fire escape a few weeks back. But he doesn't have the words for that. Not yet. He manages to nod though and piece together something that makes her smile.

“Yer beautiful when ya come.” 

She curls up against him her face resting in the crook of his neck and he runs a finger up and down the nobs of her spine. Delicate, so fucking delicate. His cock stirs but not enough to warrant attention. 

His hand on her back. The scars on his. He knows she saw something earlier. But she didn’t ask. Maybe cause they were playing a game or...

“Ain’t ya gonna ask me how I got the scars?” 

“Someday,” she breathes pressing her lips to the sensitive skin in the hollow of his neck.

Someday. She’s gonna ask someday. When the time is right and he’s sure she’ll know. But until then the idea of someday, which is a good thing, fills him up with hope. And it’s fucking crazy.

So is the fact that he falls asleep smiling.

Rolling over she finds the spot beside her empty. The spot where Daryl had been lying when she’d fallen asleep in his arms. He’s gone now but the bed is still warm to the touch.

Maybe he just left. Or maybe he’s still here.

She pulls on her sleep shorts and a tank top and pads quietly into the living room. The window to the fire escape is open and through the fluttering curtains, she can see his legs. Breathing out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding she smiles to herself. He’s out there on the fire escape. He’s not gone. Before joining him she turns on the coffee pot and grabs two mugs and sets them beside it.

“Hey,” she says softly as she climbs over the low window sill. His profile is shadowed until he turns his head to look at her. His face is bathed in the light from the sunrise and this is the first time she’s liked a sunrise better than a sunset on her little balcony.

“Morning,” he rasps. His hair is mussed and he’s only wearing his jeans and even those aren’t buttoned up. A trail of sparse dark hair disappears into the folds of the fly of his jeans. Whatever trepidation he felt about letting her see his scars last night is gone and she wants to run her hands over his chest and shoulders, feel the hard muscles that tensed and relaxed above and beneath her all night long.

“I have that coffee that we never got around to drinking. Want a cup?” she asks leaning against the iron railing. The space is small and even though the man has literally been inside her body- the intimacy of it makes her nervous.

“Mmm-hmm,” he murmurs then it’s quiet and all she can hear is his even breathing and her heart beating like it’s counting the seconds. “Wanted ta see what the big deal is,” he says waving his hand out over the alley, “being up here.”

“And?” she asks anticipating his answer.

“Guess I can see why ya like it, with the sun coming up an all.”

“Sunsets are pretty amazing too.”  _ They use to be my favorite until seeing the sunrise with you _ \- is what she’s thinking, what she thought when the sun lit up his face making his eyes burn in a different way than they had last night.

“Yeah?” he asks raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah.” Biting her lip she takes a deep breath. “You could come watch with me later if you’re not busy or something.”

He doesn’t respond right away but the way he’s looking at her is answer enough- it’s the same way he looked at her last night before they fell asleep wrapped up in each other.

“I’d like that fire escape girl,” he says huskily as he reaches for her hand, pulling her closer to him. 

“Fire escape girl, I like that.” He gave her a nickname.

“ ‘S who ya were before I knew yer name,” he murmurs.

“You never told me your name, I found it out from another waitress.” He’s got a small smirk on his face.

“An ‘fore that? Old drunk dude?” he teases. Not even. More like ‘Hot Biker’ but she won’t tell him that because it’s too embarrassing for them both. 

“Just someone I hoped would become more than a guy walking by, more than a stranger.” The look of wonder on his face is quickly replaced by something else.

“Ain’t strangers anymore,” he whispers kissing her forehead and making her heart feel as if it might burst.

“No. We aren’t.”

“So since we know each other an all, can I take you ta get something ta eat before we watch that sunset?”

“I’d like that.”

“Alright then… How ‘bout that coffee?” Because coffee sounds really good and even better with her next to him.

“On the kitchen table or?” Or they could skip the coffee altogether.

_ ~fin _

**Author's Note:**

> **No other pairing in the history of pairings will ever take their place… I may not be as active in the fandom but Beth and Daryl will always be my OTP!**


End file.
